


This is the Kiss

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Illustrated, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-17
Updated: 2009-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Matthew kissed Alfred one night, he thought everything was going to change...until Alfred started acting like he didn't even remember it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is the Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [The Hetalia Kink Meme](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com).
> 
> Includes a lovely picture by [KaroruMetallium](http://karorumetallium.deviantart.com/). ♥

Alfred is—Matthew can't believe this—Alfred is sitting here, right next to him, he's just: Alfred F. Jones is sitting next to him, has said hello to him, and Matthew can't believe it. Alfred is smiling and sitting with him and talking to him; it's been this way his whole life, of course, but it's only in the past few weeks that disbelief has come to Matthew. These past few weeks have been different for Matthew—but not, apparently, for Alfred. And that is what Matthew cannot believe. Because the past few weeks are separated from the hundreds of years that came before them by a kiss.

Matthew doesn't think it's possible to forget a kiss. Even if you're drunk. He isn't sure Alfred even was drunk, but he was pretty drunk himself, and _he_ remembers. So he's pretty sure Alfred remembers too. He's pretty sure Alfred remembers Matthew draping his arms over Alfred's shoulders, leaning a little too hard so they staggered back just a step, Alfred did, and Matthew went with him and Alfred laughed, "Whoa there!" and Matthew giggled. He remembers this part very clearly. He giggled and Alfred just looked at him smiling, and Matthew couldn't stop giggling and the only way to stop was to cover his mouth. His hands were dangling on the other side of Alfred's shoulders and Matthew couldn't get to them. He leaned in and he still couldn't get to his hands, so he got to Alfred's mouth instead. Alfred's mouth was open like he was going to say something or laugh or maybe just breathe, and Matthew giggled into it. Alfred swallowed Matthew's giggle, but that wasn't the kiss. Matthew breathed in, inhaled Alfred's exhale, second-hand air and residue of alcohol fumes, and that still wasn't the kiss.

It wasn't kissing until Matthew moved his mouth against Alfred's, put his tongue in Alfred's mouth. That was Matthew kissing Alfred.

And then Alfred moved his mouth too, shifted so their lips slid into a dovetail, and his tongue curled around Matthew's and then pushed, and Matthew let himself be pushed back into his own mouth, and that was Alfred kissing Matthew. Matthew stood with his hands dangling and his mouth open, Alfred's tongue in it, one of Alfred's hands pressing into the small of his back (and Matthew doesn't so much remember Alfred touching him there, as the way his shirt clung after, peeled away damply, Alfred's touch imprinted on Matthew's skin with Matthew's own sweat). Matthew just stood open-mouthed; until Alfred's tongue slipped under his, curled again, flicking against the underside of Matthew's tongue and then rolled over the top to the tip. And then Matthew pushed back, went into Alfred's mouth again, and they curled and licked back and forth between them, and that was the kiss.

That had been Tokyo. This is New York, the first time Matthew and Alfred have been together, though not alone, since the G7 summit. It's the first time Matthew has seen Alfred since the kiss, which Alfred is acting like he doesn't remember. And Matthew just doesn't see how that can be, how someone can forget a kiss.

So either Alfred is pretending he doesn't remember; or he does remember, and he's pretending not to because it's easier that way.

Or maybe he does remember, and isn't pretending anything. Maybe he just doesn't care.

Or maybe, maybe it's something Matthew hasn't even thought of. He doesn't know. He just doesn't know. The thing is, it's easy to say he should just talk to Alfred. But the thing is, also, that there's never a chance to be alone with Alfred. The kiss was a stolen moment, Matthew knows that. He doesn't want to steal kisses from Alfred, or steal Alfred from anything or anyone. He wants them to steal away together, and he wants Alfred to want that too...

And his head is trying to tell his heart to stop wanting, but his heart is so swollen, it can't hear anything except its own beating.

So that's why Matthew almost misses it when Alfred suggests going to a strip club as they all leave the bar. Arthur all but rolls his eyes. Kiku is consummately polite as he declines. Ludwig says something in German that Matthew thinks means something like the hotel having sufficient pornographic material for his needs. Feliciano wants to go back to the hotel, too, for room service. Francis looks like he might say yes and Matthew can't really understand it when he declines, because alcohol and mostly naked people seem right up Francis's alley. But Francis says no just like everyone else—and so Matthew grins and says, "Great!" Because it's just him and Alfred now, and if being around live! nude! girls! is the only way to be around Alfred, Matthew can appreciate a tasseled nipple or two.

There's a two drink minimum at the club. This is not a problem for Matthew. He sits next to Alfred and drinks his minimum and appreciates some nipples, even though they're sadly lacking in tassels. Appreciates the full breasts and the soft swell of bellies and the rhythmic gyration of hips. It is difficult to appreciate the music, but when he leans over and suggests to Alfred that the two of them go take over the dj booth, Alfred laughs and points out that the music is part of the routine, isn't it? It wouldn't be fair to change that on the girls! Forced to concede the point, Matthew sits back into his own chair and has a few more beyond the minimum, and it doesn't make up for the sad bastard music. But drinking does help.

So Matthew drinks more of the martinis, shaken not stirred, that Alfred ordered for them. When Matthew pointed out that James Bond is British, not American, Alfred just grinned and said a hero's a hero, and promised Matthew he'd like it. The martinis _are_ pretty good, and are even better now that Matthew has stopped trying to improve them by sipping around the maple candy he was sucking on and is just knocking them back straight. He drinks more drinks and appreciates more nipples and tries not to think about how much the music sucks or the fact that he's sitting next to Alfred and all they're doing is just sitting here and that sucks a little too. He tries to stop thinking about the word "suck." He starts to giggle and he remembers that the only way to stop himself is to put something in his mouth and Alfred's tongue is not an option this time, and he's already sucked the last maple candy he had, "suck," and oh fuck did he say that out loud? He giggles more and the only thing available to him to put in his mouth is his drink, so he does that, and his giggle sputters out, and he's just left spluttering. Alfred claps him on the back between his shoulder blades, hard enough to leave a sort of physical echo when he takes his hand away, but not an imprint like that time before, that touch softer and lower down...

"You okay?"

Matthew looks up and Alfred's peering at him, looking at him smiling and sort of concerned; it's the quirked eyebrows that show concern, the rest of Alfred, his eyes and his mouth, are mostly smiling. Matthew smiles too and nods, and Alfred turns away still smiling. Matthew follows his gaze to the stage, the naked gyrating girl. Matthew tries to match Alfred's eyeline. He thinks Alfred might not be looking at the girl's untasseled nipples but lower down, at the soft little swell of her belly, swaying with her hips.

Matthew has a soft little swell of a belly, too. He puts his hand under his shirt and feels it. It feels nice. It would probably feel nice to Alfred. Maybe if Matthew bellyflashed him, Alfred would want to. Maybe he wouldn't really feel up Matthew's belly or anything, but he might stick his finger in Matthew's bellybutton. That might be nice. It might make Matthew giggle again, but that's all right; he can always just put something in his mouth.

Matthew gets up out of his chair, doesn't get his shirt all the way up, Matthew's not revealing any nipple. But his belly is out there. Matthew grins and shakes his thang, or whatever, stupid phrase but this music is stupid and Matthew thinks "shake your thang" might be in the actual lyrics, so, yeah, okay then. He glances over to see if Alfred has noticed his thang-shaking or the soft swell of his naked belly. And Alfred has certainly noticed something because Alfred is looking at him, laughing, and Alfred has the best smile, just the best, and Matthew feels something that's not a giggle and not sick, something rising up through his chest and just touching his throat, he can feel it curling up just at the hollow, just inside.

"Sit down!" Alfred laughs just then, tugging at Matthew's belt loop, and Matthew tries to oblige, tries to sit in Alfred's lap. But Alfred only laughs again and pushes him towards his own chair. "There you go. Sit properly." Matthew thinks that sounds more like something Arthur would say and he wonders if Alfred has taken Arthur here, or maybe the other way around, but he decides not to ask. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the seat, and buckle so he falls on his ass into it. "Now, behave yourself with the ladies. Actually—" and he's up out of his chair, turning away and going off, the rest of his sentence trampled by the overbearing bass beat and leaden lyrics. Matthew twists in his seat, but he can't see where Alfred's gone. Maybe out to hail them a cab. Matthew slumps.

But a moment later Alfred's back, tugging him up, "Come on, come on!", smiling all pleased with himself. So it's probably not a cab. Matthew follows him to the private room that it turns out Alfred's arranged for them, and a couple of ladies come in and Matthew sits properly with them and appreciates their nipples and all that, appreciates them up close and properly when one of them wants to give him a lap dance. Or maybe she doesn't really want to, but she doesn't seem to mind and Alfred is very encouraging about the matter. He seems to like it, grins and winks at Matthew when their eyes meet, and Matthew feels a giggle so he has to stop looking at Alfred because really, in this position, what is he going to put in his mouth? So Matthew stops looking and just sits there properly enjoying his lap dance, only giving Alfred a glance or two to see if Alfred's taking notice of just how properly Matthew is doing this, right down to the little bit of hard-on he's starting to sport.

His erection never really gets all the way there, so Matthew doesn't either. No happy ending for Matthew tonight. He smiles wryly as they finally leave the club hours later, not quite kicked out but they did close it down. It's morning, technically, but it still looks like night. Pre-dawn. And fucking cold. Matthew feels sober suddenly, though of course he can't be. He's only in that lucid pocket. Still, he feels it. "Let's walk," he says, turning to Alfred. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah," Alfred smiles. So they do. They walk, and Matthew isn't sure if they're walking towards his hotel or Alfred's place, or looking for somewhere to grab a bite, or just walking around a little. Doesn't matter; they're walking together.

They're on 2nd Avenue somewhere in the mid-60s when Matthew stops. Alfred stops too. "You okay, Matt?"

"Yeah," Matthew says. He tilts his head back until he's looking straight up, not really looking at anything, just. He exhales; he can see his own breath. "Yeah, hey," he says, coming back down and looking at Alfred now and smiling: "Hey, Alfred," he says, "I'm not really sober."

"Right," Alfred says.

"But I'm not really drunk."

"Right."

"Alfred," Matthew says. "Hey, Alfred—" And Alfred's looking at him, curl of his smile and curl of his quirked brow, and the curl in Matthew's throat is threatening to unfurl and Matthew doesn't know if the same thing that works on a giggle works on a curl, but there you go, and he puts his mouth to Alfred's. Alfred's lips aren't as cold as Matthew thought they'd be, or maybe they're the same cold as Matthew's and that's why he can't feel it. He can't feel the cold, but he can feel his mouth on Alfred's, Alfred against him.

Alfred winds Matthew's forelock around his finger; Matthew's toes curl with the tug. and his mouth slips open more, his lips clinging to Alfred's skin so he won't slip off as a soft moan escapes him.

Oh, Matthew feels it when Alfred shifts against him: opening to him, fitting to him. So warm, Matthew shivers. Then Alfred's arms come up around Matthew, draw him closer in, and Alfred laughs into him, his vibrations rolling softly over Matthew's tongue and Matthew swallows, swallows Alfred down inside.

And this; oh yes, _oh_ , this, _this_ is the kiss.

* * *

  
  
"Alfred and Matthew: Kiss" by [KaroruMetallium](http://karorumetallium.deviantart.com/). ♥

  



End file.
